— Olatunde Azeezah (PenTalks)

Wealth is sometimes trapped in pills,
When the diet that got balanced vomits nutrition.
Teach me how an architect — fate draws a single bed in a mansion,

How the leaves your seed spew,
Spreads on the tree under the shiny
Sun to get welcomed by the dew that
Creates a valley on their cheeks.

Wretchedness sometimes walk in a painful elegant step to
Dr. John who baptize it in a river of health.
It is purged from the pungent stench of illness.

An hospital tells tales of how
His feet paced the path like a toddler learns how to walk.
Dr. Happy says “You’re getting better”
He smiles with his cheek rumpled in joy.

In the night, Dr. Happy wore a dark cloak and says “We lost him”
Like his soul got missing and no compass could find it.
When I heard this tale I said Shakespeare wrote it, I was wrong.
It’s a tragic comedy that hid in a fate fated by the Creator.

Another myth says every hospital bed is a Mortuary that steals soul from its sleeper’s body.

I learnt it’s a place of gratitude when
The end of your pain is the beginning of another’s like an hierarchy of anguish.

In all its tragedy is a chance for us to be grateful.



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